


Sexed-up Hair and Smiling Freckles

by misha_collins_butt



Series: I Knew I Loved You [6]
Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom, sabriel - Fandom
Genre: Angel!Gabriel, Destiel Fluff, First Time, Flirty!Dean, Implied Smut, Loki - Freeform, M/M, SPN - Freeform, Sabriel Fluff, Supernatural - Freeform, Trickster - Freeform, angel!cas - Freeform, destiel smut, flirty!sam, human!Sam, human!dean, implied Sabriel smut, messy angel, messy hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 05:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4006747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_collins_butt/pseuds/misha_collins_butt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean /tries/ to fix Cas' hair but it ends up as something else.</p><p>Established Sabriel and first time Destiel</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sexed-up Hair and Smiling Freckles

**Author's Note:**

> I currently don't have a beta so all mistakes are mine.

That damn hair.

Always a mess.

The hunter watches the angel from his spot lounging on the couch, his head hanging against the back of it, his leg propped up on the coffee table and a newspaper in one hand and some coffee in the other.

His eyes roam from work shoe clad feet to mussed dark brown hair.

Dean sighs, stands, and strides across the room to the kitchenette counter where Cas is standing, face buried in a book, mind buried in the story, damn fuckin' dark crystalline blue eyes sifting through the words at an inhuman rate...ha.

 _Because he's not human_ , Dean reminds himself.

"What're you reading so intently," Dean tries for conversational material and finds none, so he says that instead, the first things to come to mind.

"Catcher in the Rye," Cas mumbles, obviously too preoccupied to be bothered with a more direct answer.

Dean doesn't know what else to say, what to talk about to pull Cas away from the apparently far too intriguing words.

"Is there something else you'd like to say, Dean?" Cas asks suddenly raising his eyebrows and tearing his face away from the book. Dean watches him with furrowed brows.

 _No_.

"Yeah, uh...actually...you're hair's a little messy--"

"Yes, you've told me, Dean...many times."

"...uh..." Dean swallows the lump of anxiety in his throat. Goddamnit, why does this angel - his angel - do this to him. He laughs defensively. "'Kay can I just...?" He lifts a tentative hand and reaches up to the hair, and Cas' eyes follow the movement with curiousity for a second, then fall back to Dean's face.

Dean tousles the hair, and grins ear to ear at the softness.

It...it almost feels like feathers. How odd.

He lifts the other hand and places one on either side of the mess at the top of Cas' head, then brings them both up in the same motion, creating a kind-of Mohawk and grinning even more broadly.

His own green eyes drop back to Castiel's face and he realises Cas is watching him with an amused smirk. Dean squints his eyes and gives Cas a bitchface - the best one he can give while trying to suppress the biggest, most idiotic fuckin' grin he's ever had to suppress.

They stare for a while, though, and Dean's smile falters, fading and sliding down into parted lips. He realises his hands are still in Cas' hair and he moves them again, tangling the fingers of one of them in the hair at the back of the angel's head. The other one moves to Cas' jaw, and Dean holds Cas's face there, a thumb sliding over the other man's lips. They part and Dean shudders at the thought of pressing his own to them.

He gulps and takes a harsh breath in, releasing Cas's head and face.

"Rest of you is pretty messy, too," Dean mumbles, smirking, and straightens that damn backward, rumpled blue tie, smooths down the collars of the white work shirt and the damn trench coat. Swipes his hands over Cas' chest to dispel of the dust or dirt or anything he can't see with his human eyes. 

Then he notices that Castiel's shirt is slightly astray, a bit untucked on the left side, and he shamelessly, recklessly, reaches down and pulls the belted waistline of Cas' work pants away from the angel's body and pushes the fabric down between Cas' hip and his pants. He goes to pull away but a hand finds a firm grasp on his wrist.

Dean's eyes whip upward and lock with Cas' and the hunter furrows his brows.

"What cha doin', there, Cas?" He inquires with a nervous tint, his lips parted and his quick, hot breaths puffing out against them.

"I'd like to try something," Cas replies quietly, hurriedly, squinting and tilting his head - this action, Dean has come to realise, is a sign of confusion, whether it be about someone else or Cas, himself.

"What cha doin', there...Cas...?" Dean asks more carefully this time, pounding the pronunciation of each word with a little more deliberation, then letting out a breathy, one syllable laugh.

Cas only blinks slowly and lifts his free hand - the one not holding Dean's wrist to Cas's body - to Dean's cheek. His thumb slides in a slow circle over Dean's cheek bone and then his entire hand slides back and into Dean's hair, which is too short for anyone to grab anything.

The angel lifts his face to Dean's, both their pairs of lips parted and expectant. And Cas gets so fucking close, their lips maybe only centimetres apart.

"Just wanna...try..." Cas murmurs distractedly, not putting much effort into finishing the already broken sentence or even into saying the words he said.

And then their lips are pressed together in a soft kiss, shy and chaste.

And Dean can't even try deny his feelings for this angel - for his angel - anymore. So when Cas pulls away, he groans and growls, tangling his fingers in the hair at the back of Cas' head again, and pulls him back in.

"Cas, I'm sorry I didn't let myself do this earlier," he whispers against Cas' lips. "I wish I did. But don't leave."

Cas shakes his head almost imperceptibly and connects their lips once more, and the hand on Dean's face slips over the hunter's neck and down his chest and Dean's wrist is still caught in Cas' hand but when Cas moves that hand as well, Dean doesn't move his own. So now he's got one tangled in Cas' sexed-up hair and one tangled in the white fabric of the hem of Cas' damn work shirt, holding his hip. And both of Cas' are resting lazily against Dean's chest, are sliding down over Dean's ribs, are finding the hem of Dean's own green t-shirt and slipping his hands beneath it, pushing them up beneath the fabric.

The new skin to skin contact makes Dean shiver so violently his knees buckle and Cas wraps a capable arm around the human's waist.

"Well, shit, Cas," Dean breathes, his eyes still hooded. "You usin' angel dust to sparkle your hands up or do I really just like you that much?"

The angel laughs, offering the most adorable, gummy smile Dean's ever witnessed.

"I think you just like me that much," Cas whispers, pecking at Dean's jaw. "But it's not as if that feeling isn't reciprocated, Dean."

"I figured, Cas."

Two knowing, shy and unsure smiles are shared before Cas is trailing his nails down Dean's spine and leading him back to the bed, trench coat trailing behind and finally rumpling to the ground about a metre from the mattress.

It's slow and slightly clumsy, all hungry, wet kisses and tentative fingers. Fabric is peeled from heated skin and mouths are occupied by things, large things, things that would impress anyone, really. But it isn't all right away. As mentioned, it's slow. As in, they're hesitant and inexperienced but they try anyway.

At one point, when Cas tugs down Dean's boxer briefs, he's not completely sure how to...well...he doesn't know if he should just...uhm...shit.

"It's okay. Cas, hey," Dean's fingers stretching out over Cas' cheek and a thumb swiping over Cas's lower lip. "It's fine. I don't know either, okay? This is...it's new, yeah? To both of us. We'll just have to...experiment."

Cas nods and crawls back up to level his eyes with Dean's, landing a quick, soft kiss on the human's lips.

After that, it's touch and go...but that doesn't quite mean it's not on Dean's list of top ten greatest sex encounters ever. Probably number one, if he's being completely honest with himself.

They both climax with eachother's names on their lips and curl up beneath the off-white sheets, bare-ass-fucking-naked, tangled together with intertwined limbs and ridiculous fucking smiles pillaging their faces.

And, though Cas actually doesn't need to sleep, he does. Probably, Dean guesses, because he's comfortable here, wrapped up in his hunter's arms, twisted between ruined sheets in a dingy motel room.

And Dean doesn't mind.

Not one bit.

\---

Sam pushes through the door, paying more attention to being able to balance the bags of food and the doorknob in one hand and Gabe's own hand in the other.

He doesn't notice the scene until a second after he's opened the door to it and he glances up and spots Dean's lightly snoring form tangled in a forest of sheets and another sleeping body.

Sam realises, with not much of a start, that the other body is that of Cas's, and he shakes his head, smirking.

"This lollipop tastes like sh--"

Gabe's less than witty remark about the candy catches in his throat when he pops his head up over Sam's shoulder and spots the two entangled men, eyebrows shooting up and sucker hanging precariously from his lips. Gabe seems to reel in his surprise enough to speak again.

"Well, then."

"I knew it," Sam performs an internal victory dance and grins, shaking his head. "I fuckin' knew it. It was only a matter of time, too. You owe me, angel."

"Don't call me angel, moose."

Sam doesn't look back, only continues smirking at the pile of sleeping bodies, as he elbows Gabe in the stomach as hard as he can (because he knows the archangel can take even his strength), and smirks harder when Gabe grunts and swears, momentarily disgruntled, before returning to his usual sarcastic-trickster composure.

"They _are_ cute though. I have to admit, this is a lot sooner than I expected," Gabe adds generously, hooking his chin on Sam's shoulder and indubitably standing on his tip toes to be able to do so.

"Obviously. Pay up, my short, snarky little pagan God."

Gabe shoots him a bored look and huffs.

"Definitely... _not_ while they're around."

"Oh come on," Sam 'puppy-eyes' the man and the corners of his lips curl up. "They got to have some fun...fucking finally." Gabe smirks and Sam adds it before the angel can. "Literally. Why can't we."

"I'm not saying no, I'm saying," Gabe turns Sam around in his arms and pushes higher up on his toes to kiss Sam's nose, "not here, Samsquatch."

They grin adoringly at each other, bag of food forgotten on the floor, and Gabe pulls Sam out the door by the hand, laughing like a schoolgirl, then disappears with the snap of a two fingers.


End file.
